


The Blossomed Bullet

by VictoriaAGrey



Series: Long Live the King & Queen [1]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Deception, F/M, Gift Giving, Miscommunication, Obsession, Rebirth, Semi-Public Sex, rio ain't dead y'all stop it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaAGrey/pseuds/VictoriaAGrey
Summary: Rio's been gone for six months and Beth is settling into a routine, until everything starts to fall apart. She doesn't know what to make of it until he's there, standing behind her like the risen phoenix, reborn and ready to reclaim his empire.///Post - King (2x13)///





	The Blossomed Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> so, uh, that finale. pretty sure I'm one of like two people who loved it and this is my idea of what their reunion could look like. if you hate the finale don't @ me because I'm here for it

There is something to be said about the delicate thread of fear weaving itself through Beth’s mind at the thought that she’s going insane.

It crept up slowly, nightmares of gunshots and blood turning into a lack of sleep. Hours added to her day with no respite at night. She cooked, she cleaned, she baked, she organized; all in an effort to compartmentalize what she’d done, who she’d done it to, and all that she was feeling but was desperately trying not to.

Then came the paranoia, the cold tingling sensation that bled from her spine into her ribs at the feeling of eyes watching her every move. Beth could feel it, the constant vigilance of unseen forces lying in wait for her to make a mistake so they could sweep in and take what was hers. She knew what came with the territory when she got in it, but knowing and experiencing were very different things. Killing the king had gained her some respect, engendered a level of recognition that kept them at bay, but she knew it wouldn’t last for long, that she would once again be tested some day.

She thought that was the worst of it, that she would soon adjust to the pressure and learn to thrive under it, make a name for herself in the criminal underbelly of Detroit, but then it happened, the one thing she knew was a clear sign that she was slipping into madness: she started to see him.

He was everywhere. Behind the tree at the park. Down an aisle at the grocery store. Sitting on the picnic table in her backyard. His silhouette casting a shadow through the French doors of her bedroom. There were days when she thought she was fine, that she was able to convince herself that she was just imagining things, but then he’d show again, sending her heart racing until she was distracted by something and he’d disappear.

After a night of fitful sleep, Beth was awoken by the sound of her ringing alarm. She rolled over and slapped the thing off, furious at its audacity to be as obnoxious as it was when she’d had as little sleep as she’d had, and was distracted by the glint of something silver on her nightstand. She rubbed at her tired eyes and sat up, curious to examine whatever it was. It looked like a flower, beautiful as it reflected the early morning sunlight off its petals, but then she noticed the copper edges. She turned it over in the palm of her hand and noted the jagged, sharp edges of the petals and the small, cylindrical copper point the petals came out of. It was only then that she realized what she was holding - her sleepy mind finally catching up to the moment - and she almost screamed, dropping it to ground where it landed with a dull thud on the carpet.

It was a discharged .50 caliber bullet.

The kind she put three of in… him.

Beth ran from her bedroom to the kitchen, grabbing her cellphone from inside her purse with shaking hands. She wanted proof of what she was seeing, that she wasn’t going mad as a hatter. She’d cracked recently and confessed to Ruby and Annie that she’d been seeing him, had been losing sleep and touch with what was real and what wasn’t. Ruby told her she needed to see someone, get herself sorted since killing him had obviously fucked with her mind harder than she’d initially thought. Annie had tried to lighten the mood, said that they should play by horror movie rules - that no body means no death - but Ruby had shut her down quick. At the moment, Beth didn’t care what the bullet meant, just that she wasn’t crazy and she had physical proof.

Running back into the room, she immediately froze when she looked down at the floor and didn’t see the bullet. She threw her phone on the bed and got down on her hands and knees, frantically searching for the bullet she had held in her hands and came up with nothing. It was gone. She screamed in frustration, tearing the sheets from the bed and throwing her alarm clock at the armoire in a hollow attempt to vent the chaos swirling wildly in her chest.

Maybe she really was going insane.

A week later Beth was standing in Neiman Marcus trying on dresses, Ruby and Annie in their respective dressing rooms doing the same. They were growing increasingly concerned with her wellbeing and in the hopes of distracting her, they proposed a shopping trip to treat themselves since their counterfeiting operation was going so well. Beth had agreed halfheartedly, not feeling much like she wanted to do anything, but agreeing anyway because she wanted to see them happy. She was standing on a platform in front of a three panel mirror just outside the dressing rooms, taking in the fitted red dress she was wearing. It hugged her curves just right, cinching at her small waist and showing off the curve of her hips. It was tight around her breasts, in a way that gave her cleavage that would have once made her shudder, but now made her smirk. She knew she looked good.

“What do you think?” the in-house stylist asked, looking up at her with a surprisingly genuine smile.

“I love it.”

Her smile widened. “Can I put this aside for you behind the counter?”

She ran the numbers through her head. Business was good, but not good enough for her to justify purchasing a $1,000 dress. At least not yet. “I don’t -.”

“She’ll take it.”

Beth froze, her heart bottoming out at the sound of an achingly familiar voice. She looked away from the stylist, heart racing at the prospect of looking into the mirror and finding nothing but a row of dressing rooms. But there he was, watching her as he held a credit card out dismissively to the stylist.

Rio. Very much alive and looking up at her with an expression that had always made her press her legs together to alleviate the ache between them.

She turned around slowly, hoping that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her again and he’d still be standing there, whole and breathing and so goddamn handsome it made her angry. And he was. Black button-up shirt and jeans. Buzzed hair. Neck tattoo. The stylist was looking back and forth between them, obviously interested in the charged interaction, but ultimately left with his credit card when she realized they weren’t going to move a muscle until she was gone.

“Fuck, Elizabeth,” he drawled, his voice curling around the name reverently as he gave her a once over. He approached the platform and slowly raised his hand, his fingers caressing her temple as he brushed the hair out of her face. “What the Rolling Stones say? ‘You make a dead man cum?’”

Beth felt her eyes widen at the reminder, the subtle jab at what she thought he was, but was obviously not. His smirk grew as the revelation reflected on her face, a bit mean in the corners.

“You - it was… it was you,” she sputtered as she started to connect the dots, fury spilling into her veins. “Watching me… following me! You fucking -.”

She raised her hand, swinging to slap him across the face, but he caught her wrist just before it connected, a bright smile lighting up his face.

“Don’t you think you’ve already caused enough damage?”

“I thought I was going crazy!” she snarled at him, hating that his eyes glittered with mirth at the expense of her sanity. “I thought I was losing my mind!”

“Just wanted you to have a taste of your own medicine.” She didn’t know what he meant by that, didn’t care to know, and she yanked her arm back out of his grasp. There was a moment where they just stared at each other before he nodded his head towards the dressing rooms. “Come on, let’s talk.”

Rio walked into the dressing room she’d been using and she followed him in, locking the door behind her. He sat in the chair in the corner, silently watching her. The room was dimly lit, the small chandelier overhead and the light bars around the mirror casting a more than flattering glow over the small space. 

Beth didn’t say anything, couldn’t think of what to say out of the one million things she thought she’d say if she ever saw him again, and unwilling to open her mouth and hear whatever words spilled out. He continued watching her with hooded eyes, making her heart race for a reason it hadn’t been a minute before, hadn’t for the six months he’d been gone. He finally nodded at her and raised his eyebrows.

“Ain’t you gonna gimme a thrill?”

Beth’s jaw dropped and she scoffed a disbelieving laugh. The audacity he had in assuming he still had the same effect on her, that she would just willingly go along with what he obviously wanted, was incredible.

“Think your heart can handle it?” she snapped, immediately regretting it but refusing to admit it.

Rio chuckled, his left hand coming to gingerly lay over where it had been. The third shot.

“If it don’t, at least you’ll have finally finished the job.”

The silence carried with it a tension it hadn’t before and Beth felt it acutely, the things they weren’t saying, both settling on the one thing they could agree on without a word because it would come with landmines if it were spoken of outloud. She bit her lip and allowed her arousal to take over, to feel it fully in a way she hadn’t since she took him home and then told him to leave.

Beth reached over her shoulder, pushing the zipper of the dress down as far as she could before she changed positions, her hand then reaching up behind her back and grasping the zipper between two fingers, pulling it down slowly, all as she maintained eye contact. Rio was keeping his face blank, half his mouth covered by his fingers as he leaned sideways in the chair, but she could see he was growing hard in his jeans. When the zipper was undone, she slipped her arms out of the short sleeves and started to reveal herself slowly, thankful that she’d had the forethought to at least wear the panties that matched her peach colored bra. 

Rio’s eyes followed the revealing of her skin, first over her breasts, then stomach, before she made a show of slipping the dress down over her hips and bending over to pick it up from where it pooled around her feet. There was a creaking sound and she looked over at him. His face and position were unchanged, but she could see the knuckles of his left hand turning white around the pressure of how hard he was gripping the arm of the chair. She held the dress between her hands, watching him carefully, before turning around to reveal that the panties she was wearing was a thong, her favorite one, the one she knew made her ass look perfect. She smiled to herself when she heard him shift in the chair behind her.

Deliberately slowing her hands, Beth hung the dress back up on the hanger and zipped it up, running her hands down the front to smooth out the creases. Knowing there was nothing else she could do to hold the moment, she braced her hands against the wall and looked over her shoulder at him, silently giving him permission to come over and touch her. He recognized the cue and nodded to himself, getting up from the chair with a fluid grace she always envied.

She closed her eyes and waited, waited for the touch that never failed set her on fire or focus her mind as sharply as it did. It shut the world out, focused all her attention on her body and the way he made it feel. She’d missed the feeling while he’d been gone, missed it enough that she’d once again tried to recapture the feeling with Dean, only to realize he’d never once elicited the same reaction, not once in their twenty years of marriage. She’d signed the divorce papers and kicked him out, all because of a feeling, one she thought she’d forever lost to the repeated pull of a trigger and three bullets to the chest.

Beth gasped when Rio’s hand landed on her ass, gentle as he kneaded the soft flesh. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled, sighing as he exhaled, his warm breath making her tremble. The hand he’d been resting on her waist traveled upward to cup her breast and graze a nipple through the thin fabric of her bra as his other hand glided over her hip and downwards, his fingers teasing her until he brushed one over her clit, feeling just how wet she was for him already. Her body clenched around her arousal almost painfully, the only thing keeping her standing being Rio’s arms tightening around her.

A part of her expected it play out like it had in the bathroom, expected him to rip her thong off before pushing into her, all raw instinct and nothing that could be chalked up to more than scratching an itch. But like he was prone to do, he surprised her. He grabbed her hips and turned her around, waiting until she opened her eyes and looked at him. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to with his pupils blown wide, but there was something else there, something he wanted her to see but refused to say. She didn’t know what it was, just that it prickled at her eyes and made her breathless. Her chest felt like it was caving in and she reached a hand up, grazing her fingers over his cheek and lips, her nail catching on his bottom lip, tugging it downwards before releasing it. That seemed to break something in him, releasing whatever it was he felt about her and he lunged, her back connecting with the wall as he kissed her roughly. She opened her mouth to him, giving as good as she was getting, and allowed the moment to wash over her.

It wasn’t long until he was inside of her, not even bothering to take off her thong, just pushing the fabric aside and pushing in. She moaned, far too loudly considering where they were, and his own groan joined hers, fueling the fire burning between them. He gripped one of her legs and lifted it, his other hand grabbing her by the back of the neck - much like he had once when he'd threatening her - keeping her from turning away from him as he rested his forehead against hers and started to move.

This part she loved, losing herself in the push and pull of their hips. They worked well together, their bodies falling into a familiar rhythm that came more naturally than it should, not for two people who’d only fucked a handful of times. It was more intense than it’d been before. She was surrounded by him, his breath ghosting over her face as his hands pressed bruises into her skin. And she wanted it, the bruises, the sore feeling he left between her legs once they finished. She liked the reminders of what they did when no one else was looking.

The build up didn’t take long, her body starting to shaking under the constant pressure of him pushing into her, and she could feel the stutter in his hips, that he was as close as she was. Her hands scrambled over his back, searching for purchase, when she felt it, her fingers grazing over the scars of exit wounds. He moaned and the sound released her, her body clenching and releasing around him as she cried out, and seconds later, he tumbled down after her, gasping for air as they both shuddered with aftershocks.

When he finally pulled out, she groaned with the loss, her body collapsing so only the wall was supporting her. She absentmindedly watched him pull his jeans back up, wondering what was running through his mind as he avoided looking at her. There was red lipstick smeared over his lips and she couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like. She turned to the mirror and gasped. Her lipstick was smeared all over her lips, much like it was on him, and there was a small red mark at the top of her forehead where he’d been resting his against hers. Her hair could politely be described as a disaster, but would more accurately be described as sex hair. There were little bruises forming on the hip where he’d been clinging to her. Anyone could look at her and know exactly what they’d just done, which was the way she liked it.

“Come here,” he said, reaching a hand out to grab hers, gently pulling her until she was standing in front of him in front of the mirror. She could feel the slickness of his cum on the insides of her thighs as he kept her in place. “Close your eyes. I got somethin’ for you.”

Too loose to question him, she closed her eyes and waited. She heard the rustle of fabric, then the feeling of something metallic and warm getting clasped around her neck. Her brow furrowed, wondering why he got her a necklace, but she stayed silent.

“Open your eyes.”

Beth opened her eyes, clocking Rio’s heated expression before she looked down at her chest. At first, she thought he got her a necklace with silver flowers, but then she saw it. The copper edges around the petals. The fact that there were three flowers. Her blood ran cold and she reached a hand up, ready to tear it off of her neck, but he stopped her, wrapping his arms around her chest to restrain her arms as she struggled to free them.

“Those… they’re -,” she said as she kept trying to reach for the bullets around her neck.

“I kept ‘em just for you. See, sweetheart, here’s somethin’ you didn’t know about hollow points,” he said, a smirk on his lipstick smeared lips as he faced her in the mirror. “They blossom when they hit their target, tearin’ through skin and muscle. Kills a motherfucker before they even know what hit ‘em… killer.”

She stopped squirming in his arms long enough to glare at him.

“I didn’t kill you,” she snarled.

“Nah, see, mama, you did.” He released his hold on her and took to caressing his fingers over her chest, the pattern matching his bullet wounds. She didn’t stop him, too shocked by the revelation and too mesmerized by the feel of his warm fingers and reverent touch. “Two minutes I was gone. For two minutes you were free. Now…,” he trailed off, shaking his head as he leaning into her, smelling her hair with an expression like bliss before looking back at her. “Now, you ain’t gonna be able to get rid of me.”

Rio’s hand trailed back up Beth’s chest, delicately passing over her pulse before turning her head away from the mirror to face him. He bit his lip, looking down at hers before saying, with an oddly proud tone, “I just wanted you to have a reminder of what a boss bitch you are.”

He kissed her softly, his lips lingering against hers as he whispered, “Till next time, darlin’.”

And then his hands were gone and his body was no longer pressed against hers, leaving her bereft of his presence. She turned in time to watch him open the door, pausing for a split second when he found Ruby and Annie on the other side. They both looked up at him in shock, slack-jawed and speechless. Rio stood there for a second, then lifted a hand to wipe at his mouth, Beth catching the sight of red lipstick on his fingers when he pulled it away.

“Ladies,” he said with a nod, his voice dripping with amusement, and then he was gone.

They both turned back the Beth, expressions unchanged until they saw the state she was in.

As usual, Annie was the one to break the silence. “Horror movie rules? Really? I’m never right, it’s kind of my thing.”

“What the fuck?” Ruby said, carefully enunciating each word. “What the fu - wait, was it still good?”

Beth felt a smirk pull at her lips and she turned back around, facing the mirror. She could see them in the mirror’s reflection, but her gaze traveled to the necklace sitting heavy around her neck. Her fingers grazed the flower’s petals, her skin catching on the jagged edges. To anyone else, the gift of a necklace would be a sign of affection, and maybe it was to a degree, but she knew the real meaning of the gift. The real message he wanted her to take from it and she felt herself smile, feeling more alive than she’d felt in months, maybe ever.

Prepare for war.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for your kudos, comments, critiques, angry banshee screams, or whatever you leave for me here or at my tumblr ***[mycroft-silently-judges-you](http://mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com)***


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